


In Time

by kiyala



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kissing, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: In one timeline, Victor never coached Yuuri. Then he meets the version of himself who has.





	

It's a cold night in St. Petersburg, but Victor has always preferred them the most. There are fewer people out and about as he loops the end of Makkachin's leash around his hand, guiding the way out of his building and along the streets, already dusted with snow since they were last cleared. Makkachin is warm enough, his thick winter coat making him look even fluffier than normal. They're both happy to walk at night, when most of the city's population is bundled up inside in the warmth instead.

Their walk route, like most long-standing things in Victor's life, has been the same for years. Even with the slight changes he makes, the shortcuts and the extra streets, it's still the same houses he passes, the same church, the same park. He sighs, noticing the way Makkachin's pace slows when they reach the midpoint of their route, and leads the way into the park so they can take a break. He brushes the snow off the nearest bench, sitting down and smiling as Makkachin immediately rests his head on one of his knees.

His favourite thing about the off-season is the fact that he can come home to Makkachin. The rest of the year is spent shuttling from one hotel to the next, in the company of Yakov and the rest of the Russian team but somehow still alone. He's grateful that he has Makkachin in his life; he's never really had the time for anyone else.

He doesn't look up at the sound of footsteps crunching over snow, until he realises that they're approaching him. Makkachin sits up with a soft whine and Victor lifts his gaze from his dog to see—

"Hi. You look lonely. Do you mind if I sit?"

Victor stares. The man standing in front of him is _himself_ , smiling cheerfully, wearing a coat that is a little too small for him, a long scarf looped around his neck, his hands in his pockets.

"I…" Victor blinks. His double sits down, and Makkachin immediately jumps up to be patted. Victor recognises his own laugh, his own crinkle-eyed smile when patting his dog. "Who are you?"

"Victor Nikiforov, five-time gold medallist at the Grand Prix Final—"

"—I've won gold six times."

His double smiles at him. "As of recently, Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki. Or, more importantly, Vitya. That's what he calls me now."

"Katsuki," Victor repeats softly. He looks at his double—at Vitya—and takes in the brightness of his eyes, the way he's smiling not as a mask, but as if he genuinely can't stop. "Yuuri Katsuki."

Just hearing the name makes Vitya smile even wider. He holds his hand up in front of them both. "It's Katsuki-Nikiforov now."

The glint of gold catches Victor's eye and he feels his heart lodge itself in his throat. It makes him yearn in a way that a gold medal never has.

"After the Worlds last year, I saw a video," Vitya begins.

"Yuuri," Victor breathes, and it's been so long since he's even allowed himself to think about that time. It feels so long ago now. "He skated my routine."

" _Stammi Vicino_ ," Vitya says, and it doesn't feel like he's just talking about the music.

"I didn't know what to do," Victor murmurs, his gloved fingers digging into the material of his pants, just above his knees.

Vitya gives him a sideward glance. "Didn't you? It was obvious."

With a sigh, Victor looks up. " _Be my coach_. He hasn't contacted me since then. I couldn't just…"

"I could," Vitya tells him gently. "I did."

"He didn't even qualify for the final this year." Victor's shoulder slump. "I haven't seen him again."

"He won silver." Vitya's pride shines through in his voice, his smile. "He broke our free skate record. He grew so much. So did I, and everyone else around him. He won silver again at the Worlds. Then he—"

"Stop," Victor interrupts quietly. "Please."

Vitya smiles at him, and it feels a little pitying. 

"Whatever life it is that you're living, it isn't mine," Victor says, as if that's not painfully apparent already. He scratches behind Makkachin's ear absently. "Yuuri isn't in this one."

"He could be," Vitya urges. "If he's taught me anything, it's the fact that it's never too late, even if you feel that it is. You're tired of trying to surprise everyone, aren't you? Try surprising yourself for a change. Let Yuuri surprise you. I promise you that he will."

"I feel like I've surprised myself enough for one day," Victor mutters, looking at the gold band on Vitya's finger, noticing the way he moves his hand as if he's used to the weight of it, like it isn't even something _new_.

Not only is Yuuri in Vitya's life, but they're married. It makes Victor's chest ache again, thinking of how Yuuri is a defining part of who Vitya is; the way he smiled as he said, _that's what he calls me now_ , the way he suffixes Yuuri's name onto his own and carries it with him everywhere just like the ring on his finger.

" _Stammi Vicino_ ," Victor murmurs, taking a deep breath as the realisation washes over him, " _non te ne andare_. Never leave."

When Vitya smiles at him this time, he looks pleased, as if he's been waiting for Victor to arrive at this thought all along. "He needs you as much as you need him. In different ways, but just as much all the same. He loves me just as much as I love him—more than I thought I could love anyone. He's _still_ surprising me, you know."

"I could have someone like that in my life," Victor whispers with wonder, mostly to himself.

"You could have a life that's your own to live," Vitya adds. "Not just downtime between competition and training. Something more."

Victor blinks, not entirely convinced. "Could I? Just by finding Yuuri? You went to him more than a year ago. If I go now, it won't be the same."

" _Victor_ ," Vitya says, in an exasperated tone that Victor doesn't recognise. "Come here."

Before Victor can ask what Vitya means, he feels a hand on the side of his face. Without gloves, Vitya's hand are cold, his fingers feeling like ice pressed along his jaw. His ring, against Victor's cheek, is even colder and for a moment, it's the only sensation he can focus on.

Then Vitya pulls him in, pressing their lips together. Victor freezes up immediately, overwhelmed by how strange it is to be kissing himself. Vitya moves his hand away, pulling back enough to give Victor the change to back away. If anything, Victor presses into the touch, wanting to feel the ring pressed against his cheek once again. Smiling, Vitya kisses him again.

Victor has kissed people before, but it's never felt like this. Vitya kisses him with such tenderness that it steals Victor's breath away. It's the soft pressure of their lips against each other, the warmth of their breath mingling in the smallest of spaces between their mouths. Vitya isn't kissing him as if there's any further intent behind it. This isn't a precursor to anything more. It's just a kiss for the sake of kissing, to be close, to be touching one another.

"That," Vitya murmurs against his lips, "is the way he kisses me good morning."

"Every day?" Victor's voice is hoarse, and he finds himself leaning into Vitya's warmth, not wanting to let it go now that he's felt it, wondering if Yuuri feels as warm. 

"Every single day that we're together," Vitya promises. "Except for the times we're competing in separate qualifiers, we're _always_ together."

Victor wets his lips and swallows hard, trying to imagine it. "How else does he kiss you?"

With a chuckle, Vitya leans in again and shows him.

The kiss this time is decidedly dirty; Vitya's tongue slips in and out of his mouth like it's suggesting something else entirely. Vitya's teeth tug on Victor's lower lip and when they pull apart, Victor is panting, feeling too warm despite the cold night.

"I _knew_ he could kiss like that," Victor murmurs, breathless. 

"You remember the banquet," Vitya replies, his voice pitched low. "You remember that glimpse of how he can be. You remember the way his hands felt on you."

Victor blinks, letting himself think back to it. The longing returns tenfold, and he sucks in a shaky breath.

"You won't see it unless he feels comfortable enough to _let_ you see it. You need to be patient with him. That's the most important thing. Everything else will come in time."

"I've already wasted so much time," Victor mutters, touching his finger to Vitya's ring. "You're ahead of me."

With a wide smile, Vitya pats his cheek. "Catch up, then."

Victor sits there, watching as Vitya gets to his feet, giving Makkachin one last pat before waving at them both, walking away until he's out of sight.

Touching his fingertips to his lips, Victor hums in thought.

"Come, Makkachin," he says, standing up. He can still see Vitya's footprints in the snow, until they reach the paved path.

He has a lot to do. The first thing, Victor decides, is to find exactly where in Japan Yuuri lives and how to get there. He'll take the rest as it comes.


End file.
